


flying

by jedormis (dottie_wan_kenobi)



Series: Dickkory Soulmate AU Verse [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Crying, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, F/M, Flying, Gen, Koriand'r Needs A Hug, Language Barrier, No Romance, Pre-Relationship, Slavery, Soulmates, Trauma, more young batdad, non-graphic, some day i will write a fic where dick grayson doesn't cry, today is not that day, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/jedormis
Summary: Dick dreams of cold torture chambers and a girl with purple eyes. Kory dreams of flying and a man made of shadow.-----------When she dreamed, she got to fly again.It wasn’t the same as her home, but it was flying, freedom, happiness. The atmosphere was lighter, the sky darker, the wind more of an aid instead of a force to push against. She had to grab a handheld machine that shot a wire out, then jump, and then she was flying. Her hair cascaded behind her, her legs and toes pointing as she aimed and directed herself. Then she landed on another building, unlike any she knew, the large shadow of a man landing beside her.





	flying

**Author's Note:**

> asdfdfkljk look I'm playing fast and loose with canon and world building and also I wrote most of this late at night. So I sincerely apologize if this isn't nearly as good as I think it is lmfao
> 
> SO the slavery tag is because Kory was canonically enslaved by the Gordanians at one point BUT it's not graphic at all because I can't stand the thought long enough to write what probably really happened to her

He blinked, slow and murky like he was underwater. Each one took herculean effort and lasted an eternity, revealing nothing to him except that it was dark and claustrophobic, wherever he was. And cold.  _ Really  _ cold. It was definitely not his bedroom, nor was it the familiar dark-and-cold of the Cave.

_ Think.  _ Think _ , Dick. Where are you? How did you get here? How can you get out? _

Without his permission, his mouth opened. “W--wha’?”

A hissing sound filled the air, and he sluggishly turned his head, the pressure inside and out making it a painful affair. His eyes closed against the sharp agony, and the nausea that rose with the movement. Once it passed, he realized he was lying down, and whatever it was, it was hard and flat and where the majority of the cold was coming from.

_ Oh my god _ , he thought with slow shock, another realization settling in. 

He was lying on an examination table, like in a morgue, and that by the way he was positioned, there must’ve been others in the room as well. Straps of some sort, as hard and unwieldy as metal, but wet and slimy, held down his shoulders, legs, and arms. The walls were exposed, dripping in weird multi-colored slime, and from where he was, it looked like they were pulsating. Like they were alive. Again, he wondered where the  _ hell  _ he was. 

There was a girl next to him, with dark skin and dark hair. She was scantily clad, thick purple fabric covering her chest and hips. It was torn in a way that didn’t seem fashionable, but more like she’d been attacked by a large cat. Similar restraints held her down to her own metal table. There was a sheen of sweat on her face, and her purple eyes were narrowed in anger. She looked weak as a kitten, but the eyes told him immediately -- she was dangerous, and she  _ hated  _ him. 

Wait, what? She didn’t hate him. She didn’t know him, and he certainly didn’t know her. Was there something in the air messing with his thoughts, or something? Clenching his teeth, he tried to focus. His first priority had to be finding out where he was and how to get out. This girl was his source of intel, which meant he had to focus.  _ Focus, Dick! _

He tried to say, “Hello?”, but all that came out was the first syllable before she made the hissing noise again. Was she…  _ shushing  _ him? What the hell?

“Excu--”

She burst into rapid fire whispering, all in a language he didn’t recognize even a word of. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He did recognize one.

Koriand’r.

He stiffened at the sound of his soulmate’s name, wondering if they were here or if this girl knew them. Should he ask, or would she just shush him again? Did that even matter, if he could find out something,  _ anything _ , about his soulmate?

With considerable effort, he opened his mouth again, damn the consequences. The girl’s eyes narrowed even further, slits so thin he couldn’t see her irises anymore. Before either of them could say anything, a large figure entered the room, disgustingly tall and with blue skin and bright gold armour. And it… Jesus, it was staring right at him.

A scream tore out of his throat, and suddenly he was throwing blankets off of himself, scrambling for reality at the end of his bed, so utterly frightened that he was  _ shaking _ . Which shouldn’t happen. 

He was Robin for god’s sake! He didn’t  _ get  _ scared!

Yet, there he was, gasping for breath. Scared out of his wits.

The door was thrown open, and Dick screamed again, hurtling himself over the side of the bed. He crawled under as quickly as he could, all of his fight or flight instincts telling him simply to hide. The monster was at the door and it was going to hurt him, hurt him bad, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, so he needed to hide, but what about his sister--?

“Dick!”

He was silent, waiting for the pain, the humiliation, the torture, but it never came. From where he was pressed up against the wall, he watched as socked feet came up to the side of the bed, purposefully stepping light. His breath caught in his throat, even as logic told him that it wasn’t likely the monster had feet or wore socks.

Legs bent, knees gently hitting the rug and mess of blankets he’d left on the floor. Dick cursed himself for not pulling one over himself, but it was too late. If he tried that now, the monster would see, and the pain would come quicker.

“Dick?”

A face -- a very human,  _ familiar  _ face --  peeked down under the bed. Despite the familiarity, he couldn’t help but scream again, fear pulsing so loud in his ears that he thought his heart would stop. He didn’t want to be hurt again. He didn’t want the monster to touch him again. No, no, please, no, please, please, no.

“Shh, shh, breathe, it’s okay, lad, shh, no one’s going to hurt you, calm down, shh….”

Slowly, the person--the monster-- _ Bruce _ laid down on the floor, not coming under the bed but closing in the one side. No escape that way. In the other direction, he could hear breathing, quiet and concerned whispers. Which meant that if he went that way, he’d be caught, and he’d be hurt.

No, he told himself fiercely. No, he wouldn’t be hurt. He was Robin. He was strong, he was powerful, he was  _ royalty _ \--

“What’s he saying, Master Bruce?”

“I don’t know, it’s not any language I’ve ever heard….”

“Shall I get Zitka?”

“Please. Dickie, shh, shh, I don’t know what you’re saying. Can you speak in a different language? One I can understand? I want to help but I can’t unless you--. Ah, thank you Alfred. Look Dick, it’s Zitka.”

At the sight of his beloved elephant, something snapped, and he reached out for it, even though he was much too old to turn to stuffed animals for comfort. Bruce handed it over easily, murmuring something to Alfred, but Dick didn’t care. He hugged Zitka to his chest, and tried to breathe.

“Can I come in there with you?”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Bruce gingerly slid under the bed, making sure he wasn’t blocking Dick’s easiest escape route. “What’s going on, Dickie?” He whispered. “A nightmare?”

Dick nodded, rubbing one of Zitka’s soft ears between his fingers anxiously. His eyes didn’t leave Bruce, who he saw now had clearly been asleep when he heard screaming, though he was aware of Alfred, still somewhere else in the room.

“What happened in the dream?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t ready to tell Bruce. 

“Were you…,” Bruce cleared his throat, “were you dreaming of someone touching or hurting you?”

“No! Why would you say that? No!” Maybe yelling would cover up the way his heart was pounding.

Roughly, he said, “You were…. Before you started speaking some other language, you were begging for someone to stop.”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…. Nothing even  _ happened… _ .” Eyes filling with tears, he shook his head again. “It was just a bad dream.”

“Tell me what it was about.”

He looked down at Zitka, part of him ready to follow the command, another part of him too shaken to relay the dream. Ultimately, the first part won out, and he summarized the nightmare as quickly as possible. Bruce’s face didn’t change much as he heard the details, but soon enough, he was reaching out and pulling both Dick and Zitka into his arms. His grip stayed loose, but he was warm, so unlike the dream, that Dick snuggled into his chest as much as he could.

When he got to the part with the monster, the fear he felt, the pain he knew was coming, Bruce fiercely assured him, “You’re safe here, lad. I won’t let anything get you.”

“I know that,” he whispered. “I know. But who’s protecting Koriand’r?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… that girl said Koriand’r’s name. Why would I dream of a girl I’ve never seen before, saying my soulmate’s name unless I was dream sharing with them? Plus, it was too real to be a normal dream. If it was a lucid one, I would’ve known I was dreaming, but I didn’t. It was real, it  _ felt real _ , I thought I was really there. I must’ve been dream sharing, seeing what Koriand’r was seeing.”

He didn’t say anything about how rare dream sharing was, or how painful it was to deal with. He didn’t say anything about how they were literally hiding under the bed from a monster probably tormenting Koriand’r right that moment. He didn’t say anything about the  _ implications  _ of the nightmare. 

He didn’t say anything at all. He just hugged Dick tighter to him, not complaining about the elephant’s button eyes poking him, or the dust getting in his hair. Dick pretended not to notice those things. He probably should’ve asked to get out, assure Alfred he was okay, and get back to sleep. 

Bruce’s arms were just too comfortable, though.

* * *

 

When she dreamed, she got to fly again. 

It wasn’t the same as her home, but it was flying, freedom, happiness. The atmosphere was lighter, the sky darker, the wind more of an aid instead of a force to push against. She had to grab a handheld machine that shot a wire out, then jump, and then she was flying. Her hair cascaded behind her, her legs and toes pointing as she aimed and directed herself. Then she landed on another building, unlike any she knew, the large shadow of a man landing beside her.

He spoke in a language she didn’t know, but his pride translated well enough. When she first saw him, she was much younger, still able to fly around as she pleased. As much as a princess with constant guards could, at least. With this man, she wasn’t alone -- wasn’t in danger -- but she could move around much more freely. Even if she did have to rely on the wire. Now, she was usually stuck underground for some torture or another, and her only escape was in her dreams.

That night (or was it morning? She wasn’t sure), the air tasted sweet and fulfilling on her tongue. The actual quality of it was lost on her -- all that mattered, truly, was the fact that it wasn’t stale. Her nose turned up as she inhaled. This memory would sustain her for the rest of the day after she woke up, so she wanted to make sure she really savored it.

The shadowed man made a noise at her side, and, aware of how serious he was, she tried to focus on what he was saying. Over time, she’d learned some of the words, though she didn’t quite know what they meant. Joker was one, as well as Commissioner, and downtown. Most of all, though, she understood that in her dreams, she was named Robin, and that she had to listen to the man.

He talked at her for a moment, ending with that word --  _ understood? _ She nodded, a gesture she kept doing but wasn’t sure why, and off they went. 

In her dreams, she beat up the weirdly pink and squishy beings who were hurting people, and then she got to fly, and damn if it wasn’t the most fun she’d had in a very long time.

That night, she got to hear the crunch noise again that sent thrills through her, especially when she imagined the faces she punched were all Trogaar’s. They flew through the buildings, the air rushing over her skin and making her smile so wide it hurt.

Then something jerked, and her hand slipped, and she  _ fell _ .

She tried to catch herself, but there was no use. The air didn’t respond, and there was nothing to grab hold of. She tried so hard, but there was nothing,  _ nothing _ , and  _ oh X’hal _ , she was free-falling, she was going to hit the ground and it was going to hurt, she was so tired of pain, she didn’t need any more, and this was gonig to hurt, it was going to kill her just like it killed her parents--

Strong arms caught her, swinging her away from the ground before she could hit it, saving her.  _ Oh great X’hal _ , she thought, relief burning through her so fast it almost made her nauseous.

_ Bruce _ , her mind purred, and then she was clinging to a torso, not even worried about who it belonged to because she felt safe and that was all that mattered in that moment. When, seconds later, she was laid out on a hard surface, her thoughts didn’t even turn to the torture chamber. 

Fingers curled into the black cape of her protector, and refused to let go. “Don’t leave me,” she begged, tears suddenly rushing down her face, hearts pounding in an uneven beat. “Please don’t leave me.”

The man looked at her, and said something she didn’t understand in a soft voice that instantly soothed her some. Still, she didn’t let go of him, couldn’t, because if he left, she’d have nothing, she’d be alone again, and please, no, she didn’t want to be alone, not again. Not when she was just falling. Please, please, no.

“Dick?”

Kory stiffened immediately at the sound of her soulmate’s name. Such an odd name, but it was cute, short, and easy enough to hide. She’d never heard another say it before, but it rolled off the man’s tongue like it belonged there.

Why would he ask her about Dick?

Then -- “... _ Koriand’r _ ?”

She woke up with a gasp and a jerk, the restraints painfully forcing her back to her table. She cried out, much too loud, and her siblings shushed her immediately.

Real tears stung her eyes, then, and not just because her flying was done for the night, or because she was back in the X’hal-damned torture chamber. It had been so nice to hear someone say her name again.

“Stop crying, you big baby,” Blackfire sneered quietly at her side.

The tears silently dripped down her cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment I will love you forever <3
> 
> (Thank you to those who commented on the last one -- you guys really made my day!!)


End file.
